


Here I Go Again (I Must Have Flowers In My Brain)

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Flowers, Guilt, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Sick Fic, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, ice and fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: When your soulmate is injured, flowers coat your skin. In a merciless reminder of what you did, how you hurt them.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Here I Go Again (I Must Have Flowers In My Brain)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts).



> For Carly, I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you when I know I should’ve been. ❤️❤️ 
> 
> Title taken from Duran Duran’s (shocker) “To Bad You’re So Beautiful.”

When a new flower came into bloom it meant a new beginning, a new life to have and hold. To cherish that new start and nurture something beautiful.

But for Maverick, the next bloom was riddled with careless memories, pain and the stench of failure.

* * *

He couldn’t remember much. Only the screams of terror over the comms, the distortion, the blaring sirens and flames. Too many flames. Too many flames as he saw, taking himself into a roll, the Tomcat burn before his eyes. Falling to the Earth, twisting and turning, heading right out to sea.

It had been a week. He had been in and out of the hospital, hands trembling, bottom lip quivering every time his bleary green eyes lay upon hidden hazel; closed and unmoving.

Flowers had formed, coating his skin in a constant reminder. Of all the bandages, all the scars where skin had been ripped open and metal yanked free. Maverick had tried to count them, over and over, but they sprung up too quick, encompassing mainly his upper thighs and binding themselves around his hip.

He knew about the broken hip, the shattered femur and what was sure to be a broken rib and was thankful that, at least not yet, he hadn’t coughed up any ice blue roses.

Iceman was bound to the bed, broken and weeping and all Maverick could do was let his body be swamped with flora after fauna, the constant reminder of what _he_ had done. What _he_ had ensured.

If only he hadn’t pulled that barrel role and clipped his wing… Maverick slammed his fist into the wall, brain jolting to a hasty stop.

He would go and visit Iceman again, longing to see those hazel eyes upon him; roaming his figure with a shameless adoration. But he was yet to meet such a lustful gaze. There were too many tubes and monitors, feeding him and provoking him, trying to pry him from his own nightmare so he could join Maverick in his own lonely one.

Maverick sat still, face wet with tears, taking in Iceman’s solitary silhouette. He appeared to be sleeping, the monitor too his left side the only reminder that breaths could still be taken and a heartbeat could be felt.

Cautiously, he placed his hand atop of Iceman’s own and winced: it felt like ice, too cold to touch. He withdrew, steadying himself, before placing his own clammy palm back onto Iceman. He stared down at himself, the ice blue roses that covered him and bawled. Over and over, the _what if_ and _what could’ve been_ ringing, thrashing, through his tired mind.

He clutched at Iceman tighter and tighter, bringing his frozen fingers up to his lips and kissing them one by one. Maverick’s voice hitched and cracked as he spoke, running his other hand over what should’ve been his beaten and abused flesh. His scars. His broken bones.

Maverick just sat there for however long, flowers binding themselves to his skin and watched his soulmate take aided breath after breath.

Maybe Maverick didn’t have flowers in his brain but it was clear, unmistakable, that it should’ve been him. His Tomcat, his flat spin.

* * *

  
When a new flower came into bloom it meant a new beginning, a new life to have and hold. To cherish that new start and nurture something beautiful.

But for Maverick, the next bloom was riddled with raging guilt, hopelessness and the stench of death.


End file.
